


The reaper that took you.

by rayfelle



Category: Tennis no Oujisama | Prince of Tennis
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-24
Updated: 2013-01-24
Packaged: 2017-11-26 18:38:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/653229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rayfelle/pseuds/rayfelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It is what all of you think at first, but it’s not. Reality is different, filled with loneliness, decay and insanity that slowly drives you over the edge. You stay alive for ever, if you can call it being alive.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	The reaper that took you.

It is only when night is at its peak and the cities die a little that he comes out, careful steps and urgent glances thrown from side to side, a knowing look glinting in his eyes and a thirst for something other than human closeness settled in his throat. He was a monster, not in that only-in-fairy-tails kind of way. Oh no, he was a monster in that silently insane kind of way that brought forth more sorrow than good.

.

.

.

He couldn’t help it, he really couldn’t. There was a perfectly good human _right there in front of him_ and it didn’t seem like he would be running away anytime soon. No, actually, it was like he was waiting for the attack, silently beckoning it closer and closer and whispering with silent promises of more and better and _everything_.

Seiichi may be crazy, but he was no fool. The other was just as crazy and as much of a monster that he was, only difference was that while Seiichi was someone who killed his own and laughed as they died, the other killed humans and fed with their blood.

.

.

.

“For a serial killer you sure are sane.” The monster commented while licking Seiichi’s neck, pale, cold fingers dancing over the vein on his neck and marking it as his. He seemed rather pleased for reasons Seiichi didn’t know. He didn’t care either way.

A shift and the monster was extending his fangs and fingers were tilting Seiichi’s head back, baring his neck – a delicious meal indeed. “And what difference does that make for you?” he asked back, fully aware that one wrong word and he could say bye, bye to his life. He didn’t care for this also.

A laugh, quite charming and rather pleasing to the ear, “A big one, actually.”

There was a sharp pain and his blood was flowing into the monsters mouth and he hummed against Seiichi’s neck. It was a good feeling, truth be told. Like he was given freedom from all his worries and unpleasing reality. Seiichi didn’t mind, not at all. Though, he also knew that he would be returned to it as soon as the monster was done.

.

.

.

The monster, _his name is Ryoma_ , had followed him back to Seiichi’s small and boring flat, walking through the  door as if he owned the place and flopped down on the couch. He wasn’t sure if what he felt towards this was anger or fascination, or maybe a mix of those and everything else, but he was sure as hell he didn’t like it.

There was a nonchalant _because your blood is good and you look better than anything I’ve eaten so far_ thrown his way when the monster, _Ryoma – he has to remind himself all the time_ , had decided to make Seiichi’s home his own as well, at least for the time being.

He later decides to google vampires and see if there was anything that could help him in getting rid of the thing.

.

.

.

Being a serial killer had its own negative sides, apart from the rather obvious insanity and utter ignorance of morals (but Seiichi didn’t really count those as negatives sides) and that was the police and all of those foolish of his own kind that thought that what he was doing was disgusting, creepy and inhuman.

They were fools of they couldn’t see that artistic side of all of this. But then again, Seiichi was simply one of a kind and he was glad it was that way.

Ryoma (he had finally given up on getting rid of the annoying thing and used his real, or at least temporary, name) was actually a rather welcomed help in getting away from those who didn’t understand his need and for that he only asked Seiichi’s blood in return. A rather good deal, if someone were to ask Seiichi himself.

.

.

.

“Why me?” he had asked the vampire one day, sometime during the cold mornings of January while he was still in the fragile webs of sleep and the vampire was directing his attention to the morning news.

There was a small sigh, roll of the eyes and the vampire slithered into his lap, eyes glinting almost golden and lips were once again kissing Seiichi’s bruised neck, “Because you are the only sane one.” He mouthed against the hot skin and sunk his teeth into it.

_He must be batshit crazy_ , Seiichi thought as he moaned and fingers clung to the vampire’s clothes, _to think that someone like me was sane_. But he couldn’t help but feel a bit pleased and even a little happy – it wasn’t everyday that a monster only found in delirious dreams and old wife’s tails called you special.

.

.

.

Ryoma wasn’t as much of a monster as a teen with a peculiar **addiction** , if Seiichi would have to describe his roommate he’d say. He had grown rather used to feeling the silent reminder that he wasn’t quite as invincible as he had thought silently padding around the flat. The flat got unusually distant and cold when the monster was absent from it and Seiichi wasn’t sure why, but he didn’t like it. He had loved it before though.

And even when he was being bitten he felt a sort of pride, no, not quite pride but more of a satisfaction that he was probably the only one that Ryoma deemed good enough and kept alive for longer than those few moments required for his meal time. It had been half a year now and Seiichi was still alive – running around and killing people as a hobby.

“If I told you that I would be ok with making you like myself, but you would be my slave of course, what would you do?” Ryoma caught him off-guard and a cup slipped out of his fingers (now he had coffee stains to take care of).

“Um.” There were few times that Seiichi had been caught like this, like a deer in headlights and left slightly dumb-struck and wondering why it had to be him, of all people.

.

.

.

Ryoma was jumping up and down on Seiichi’s bed, eyes glinting in mischief and a smirk on his lips. One would think he was just a bratty teen (and, in actual reality he was a bratty teen, but the problem was in the fact that he had been a bratty teen for good fifty years now, maybe more) having the time of his life while pissing others off and enjoying the chaos created.

“I thought you were smarter than that, mister murderer. And here I was willing to help you out too, in the immortality department **only** though. Maybe the sex too, but for that,” here he stopped jumping and placed a finger in front of his mouth, as if shushing a bad child, “we would have to stay quiet cause the old farts don’t like _us_ doing it with _you_.” There was twisted amusement in his voice and eyes but Seiichi ignored it.

He was far too busy with trying to stop the bleeding oh his leg and from his stomach that his latest victim had caused. Too bad that his victim would never see him die, that much Seiichi was glad for, but dying here would be, simply put, stupid.

Seiichi sighed and then turned to look at the vampire jumping on his bed, “Fine, make me your slave.” He realized that he had just signed the contract with fucking Lucifer himself, if the maniacal **_glee_** in Ryoma’s eyes was any indication.

.

.

.

“I thought being a vampire would be more interesting.” Seiichi admitted one day while basking in the wonderful afterglow of just doing his own master (he still couldn’t quite say the name as he should be saying it, respect and everything, but Ryoma didn’t seem to care either way) in the ass.

A laugh reached his ears and then his naked master was sitting on his chest and nails were digging into his skin, drawing blood and those golden eyes had that sharp look of old age and knowledge and superior intuition and something that Seiichi couldn’t name. “It is what all of you think at first, but it’s not. Reality is different, filled with loneliness, decay and insanity that slowly drives you over the edge. You stay alive for ever, if you can call it being alive.”

.

.

.

He respected Ryoma; he really did – in his own special way that others wouldn’t label as respect at all. Ryoma was his master, the one that had turned him, so he was supposed to respect and obey and other crap like that. Ryoma had never once asked that of him (though he insisted to be called master for his personal joy). Seiichi never stepped out of his own role too.

They wouldn’t be together forever, there was no such promise between them and Seiichi was aware that Ryoma was quick to get bored once his prey has gone submissive and uninteresting. That was the blood of a hunter, the vampire had told him once, something that would soon wake up in Seiichi to, but not as vivid as it was in Ryoma.

Seiichi was ready to find himself alone one day, all traces of his master gone and the scent long carried away by the wind and dulled with blood. He just wasn’t ready for it to happen this quickly. Even if he was aware that he was never truly alone and that Ryoma would still show up in front of him from time to time, it kind of hurt his stone cold heart and it was rather weird. He wasn’t supped to _feel_ in the first place.

.

.

.

He was a monster, silently flowing through the people and buildings, avoiding what he wanted to avoid and tracking down his prey. He was a monster, made by insanity and darkness and a little bit of loneliness, although he wasn’t supped to feel at all. Still, he was a monster and he needed to hunt and so he did, slowly and carefully.

He stopped the second he felt eyes on his persona, tearing him apart from the inside and laughing silently as he realized that he had ways to go to become an actual predator. Seiichi wasn’t upset, he simply smiled and sighed, “How have you been, _master_?”


End file.
